Nearly 200 TTC bus, streetcar and subway operators are suffering from severe stress usually associated with survivors of combat, natural disasters and rape.

Their rate of post-traumatic stress disorder is about four times that of police officers who patrol Toronto streets, and the city's transit drivers report these problems more than any other workers in Ontario, according to provincial data.

Drivers have suffered a wide range of abuse – shot at with an air rifle, punched in the eye, head-butted in the mouth, gashed with a broken beer bottle, to list just a few examples the Star uncovered.

Shawn Gilchrist, psychologically crippled by the disorder, missed nearly two years of work after four riders swarmed and dragged him to the bus floor, then kicked, punched and dislodged a molar.

A driver got a gob of spit in the face and mouth, and spent weeks off work and ran through many tubes of toothpaste trying to erase the memory.

Another driver, Michael, said he was driving along Kipling Ave. in 2005 when the headlights of an oncoming Jetta went out. The sedan crept closer, its passenger window going down. Seconds later, the window next to Michael's head had a hole in it and a spider web of cracks.

"I saw this thing coming out of the sedan's window, and I'm still looking at it. All of sudden ... Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. I screamed at everyone: `Get down. We're taking fire.' I didn't know what to say," said Michael, his voice quickening and pitched with anger. "I thought: I'm not going to see my family again. This is it."He later learned he was shot at with an air rifle and was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

"I couldn't sleep. I kept being paranoid. I didn't want to drive."

The Star obtained the records from the Workplace Safety & Insurance Board after a freedom of information battle lasting nearly two years. Names of drivers were withheld. Through interviews the Star found some claimants and agreed not to identify those with strong concern for their safety.

In a five-year period ending in 2005, at least 181 drivers claimed post-traumatic stress disorder, missing an average of 49 days of work, with some absent only days and others more than a year. The traumatized drivers missed a total of nearly 9,000 workdays. An additional 102 operators reported missing weeks or months of work because they were suffering anxiety, neurotic disorders and depression.

The men and women on the front lines of the TTC, for the most part, take the job because they like sitting behind the wheel, chatting with the public and earning a steady paycheque.

But some drivers say they have become easy targets for surly riders. They are demoralized, tentative around strangers and fearful.

Subway operator Bryan Tollefson, who suffered from the disorder 10 years ago after seeing two suicides and an accidental death in the subway, says he has sunk back into depression after a drunk head-butted him in the mouth in 2006.

With overcrowding on buses and streetcars, fare hikes and traffic snarling transit schedules, the operators say they are facing an increasingly frustrated, unpredictable public. The number of reported crimes on TTC property spiked dramatically in 2006, from 2,744 the year before to 3,415, a 24 per cent increase. Meanwhile, the drivers struggle for sympathy from their own employer, an outfit of nearly 11,000 employees heavilyfocused on timely service and, drivers say, not enough on their safety.

TTC management, though, is making a big push to make life on the road and rails less stressful."I think we have an obligation to do something," said TTC chair Adam Giambrone. "This is unacceptable. We have to take this seriously. This is about respect and safety of our operators. They didn't sign up to be soldiers."

Post-traumatic stress disorder, often caused by witnessing or experiencing a traumatic event involving the threat of injury or death, is the second-leading cause of loss-time at the TTC. Transit commission workers suffering sprains, strains and tears missed a total of 27,000 days of work between 2000 and 2005, the most recent years available to the Star.

Symptoms of the disorder include frequent, involuntary reliving of the event and irritability, and could include increased blood pressure and feelings of helplessness. Sufferers could also develop unhealthy coping devices, such as feelings of detachment and numbness.

"You live an increasingly narrow life and, on top of that, (you) are in a kind of a hyper-arousal state, ready to fight or flight," said Dr. Alain Brunet, psychiatry professor at McGill University. "(Sufferers) don't sleep well, they have problems concentrating, easily distracted, easily startled, and they may have a short fuse."

Described, often dismissively, as shell shock in World War I, and neurosis in World War II, and captured in Vietnam War-era photos as the "thousand-yard stare," post-traumatic stress disorder is now recognized not as a moral weakness but as a legitimate, sometimes devastating disorder.

"I came to the realization I was shut off all the time, even when I came home," said subway operator Tollefson, who says he missed five months of work in the late '90s due to the disorder. "It bothers me that I don't feel anything. Oftentimes I don't feel anger or joy or pleasure. You just go about your business. You do what is right by your family, but there's no feeling behind it."

Several psychiatrists and experts say bus drivers are more prone to the disorder than those in many other jobs.

"They're easy targets. They wear a uniform. They represent a form of authority but without too much power," said Brunet, who found a "higher than expected" rate of the disorder among Montreal bus drivers in a study conducted 12 years ago.Norman Shields, a psychologist who treats combat veterans, says bus drivers might be more likely to suffer from the disorder than soldiers because of the driver's relative inability to act – to use handcuffs, a weapon, anything to react to the adrenaline rush that comes with an assault.

"We're sitting ducks out here," said Dino, a bus driver for 10 years. "You don't know when it's coming."

Dino, 43, who says he's been punched, threatened with death, spit on and had to dodge rocks thrown through his windshield, doesn't want his last name published for fear his assailants will track him down. Dino missed a month of work in 2000 after a domestic dispute spilled onto his bus and a man waved a gun in his face, muttering, "I'm going to blow your head off."

While TTC officials say 99 per cent of the riding public are kind and thankful, it is clear drivers have become whipping posts for frustrated Torontonians.

"Imagine if I was in a supermarket, and I didn't like the price of milk that day and I punched the clerk," said Bob Kinnear, head of Amalgamated Transit Union Local 113, which represents the 4,500 TTC operators. "I don't know of many jobs where you have people missing time because they got punched in the face at work."

Giambrone says the rise is due in part to increasing pressures on the system.

"We carry more people. We have more customer service complaints," Giambrone says. "Are people more upset when the quality of service is not what it was in the past? Absolutely. Is it acceptable to take it out on the driver? No."

A dedicated and decorated employee, Shawn Gilchrist, 47, needed only four years on the job to become the driver he is today: Nervous in public and joyless on the job.

His breaking point: Around 8 p.m., May 7, 2005. He asked a man who underpaid to pay a full fare. The rider taunted Gilchrist until the bus pulled into the Lawrence West subway station. "Four guys kicked the s--- out of me. I was panicking for my life," said Gilchrist, who, before joining the TTC, made headlines when he tackled a gun-wielding, would-be bank robber at a midtown CIBC branch.

"I had trouble sleeping. I wasn't eating. I was afraid to leave my apartment. I was crying for no reason. I don't think I'm a wimp."

His colleague and friend Fred Hickey, 38, missed 11 months due to post-traumatic stress disorder after a rider pierced his lip with a broken beer bottle May 29, 2004.

TTC officials say they cannot pinpoint the cost of the problem, though all claims accepted by the Workplace Safety & Insurance Board, including those involving physical injuries, drain nearly $10 million from the commission every year.

Add to this the cost of lost fares as drivers increasingly fear challenging riders who don't pay. Several drivers interviewed by the Star said it's a simple if depressing choice: Ignore the fraud, or challenge the freeloader and risk a punch.

"I fear fare disputes because I just want to get home in one piece," says driver Anne Marie Dennis, 40. "You do it to the wrong person and he pulls a knife."

Dennis, a light bruise fading from around her left eye, talked to the Star two days after being hit in the face by a rider she asked to leave the bus for swearing at passengers. On the report Dennis is required to fill out after such an incident, the doctor at the walk-in clinic near her home wrote: "Stressed out, fear of going back to work."

And the cost mounts. Due to an increase in driver assaults, the TTC plans to install plastic shields on buses and streetcars. One prototype, including installation, would cost $1,500 per bus. The shields could appear as soon as this year.

As part of a $34 million project, the TTC is currently installing cameras on buses and streetcars and in subway stations to help deter would-be offenders.

Also, with the help of a $446,000 research grant from the Workplace Safety & Insurance Board, the TTC, along with two Toronto hospitals, this month began a study of drivers who have suffered stress-related injuries. The TTC's chief safety officer says the study should help the commission understand how to best treat sufferers of post-traumatic stress disorder.

In December, the TTC announced it will spend more than $7 million to hire a U.S. firm expected to reduce workplace injuries by reviewing and possibly enhancing safety polices. The contract could run as high as $9 million. The firm is the same one NASA hired after its last shuttle disaster killed seven.

Bus driver Fernando Da Silva recalled a recent fare dispute that erupted into violence when a rider punched him in the face. "All they cared about was the paperwork. All they care about: Are you coming to work tomorrow? Are you going to file WSIB?" he said. "All I wanted was ice on my eye."

TTC chair Giambrone says what Da Silva described "often leads to taking a bad situation and making it worse. Bad culture in the workplace leads to bad attitudes."

Giambrone and general manager Gary Webster said the agency is trying to do a better job of serving drivers' mental and emotional needs."I think as a company we've been a bit too hard-nosed, punitive," said Webster, sitting in his office at TTC headquarters, a book on workplace safety on his coffee table. "These (drivers) are very concerned about their safety. A lot of them are saying: `Show me the action.'"

But for driver Gary Dennis, Anne Marie's husband, the plastic shields threaten to drive an even deeper wedge between rider and driver.

"I'd probably quit the job if shields were put on," he said. "I'm claustrophobic. I like to deal with people."

Instead, Dennis would like to see more special constables to bolster the TTC's current force of 95 that is charged with patrolling the system's nearly 2,000 buses, streetcars and subway trains.

A TTC official says the commission is considering doubling the constable ranks by 2011.

"I think a lot of our surface operators don't feel like they have support out there," Giambrone said.

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